On Moving and Sandwich Bread

I think the following picture accurately represents my sentiments as of late:

Zzzzzz...

Zzzzzz…

Sean and I have moved into our new place, corresponding with a rash of migraines (me) and a wisdom teeth extraction (Sean). So things have been pretty crazy around here.

Naturally, this meant that I needed to bake some bread to calm myself down.

If you, perhaps, remember this time last year, I tried baking my own sandwich bread as part of my zero waste effort. It came out all right, but recently I found an even better recipe from my favorite food blog, Simple Bites.

Honey whole wheat sandwich bread.

Honey whole wheat sandwich bread.

It got a little squished because I got caught up watching the Bruins and it over-rose and I accidentally poked it when I got home and it deflated a little…

But anyway, this bread is incredibly moist and easy to slice, not to mention delicious.

Sandwich made with sandwich bread (go figure).

Sandwich made with sandwich bread (go figure).

It’s also easier than you would think, so try it out!

Tiramisu and Recent Life in a Nutshell

Welcome to Spring in Maine! We’re glad that the snow is gone and that the sun is staying out longer. It’s still pretty chilly, though!

Sean has been tying flies and fishing like it’s his job. Which, for the moment, is pretty much true, because he hasn’t started work yet for the summer.

Fishing in the Piscataquis River.

Fishing in the Piscataquis River.

I am doing the same thing I have been doing all semester, minus the classes, but I have “new” digs. With the departure of Katrina, my beloved office mate (pause for tears), I have acquired the better desk in the office (i.e. next to a window). Pardon the bottle of water — it was an emergency purchase.

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“New” digs.

With the end of the semester also came the final success: our UHPC mix works! This is what it looks like:

Concrete

Successful mix!

Pretty funky for concrete, huh?

We also celebrated this guy’s twenty-mumbleth birthday. Don’t worry, I didn’t make him cook on his birthday.

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Look, he’s not wearing his Metolius shirt! He does, in fact, change occasionally.

Here at Flandmade, we don’t believe in tradition when it comes to food. For the most part. I try to not make sweeping declarations that are clearly not true (Thanksgiving, anyone?). Last year, I made Sean a pie instead of a cake, and this year I made him tiramisu instead of a cake…and also a cake. But more on that later.

Tiramisu

Birthday Tiramisu!

I am a huge fan of the classic tiramisu — no cream cheese or Kahlua. I like the basics: mascarpone, alcohol that burns, espresso, and ladyfingers. I had so much trouble finding a recipe until I realized I should just search “Classic Tiramisu,” and voila!

Tiramisu

Adapted slightly from this recipe. Yields about 4 servings, so double the recipe if you want to feed more than two twenty-somethings who eat too much.

Ingredients:

8 oz mascarpone cheese at room temperature

8-10 ladyfingers

2 tbsp granulated sugar

2 small or 1 large egg yolk

4 fl oz or 2 double shots espresso (I used a stovetop maker and measured it out using a shot glass I got at BB&B)

3 tbsp brandy or dark rum

2 tbsp cocoa

Dark chocolate for garnish

Directions:

1. Whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, and 3/4 tbsp of the alcohol until thick.

2. Add the mascarpone gradually, whisking as you go, until incorporated.

3. On a plate, mix the espresso and the rest of the dark rum. Dip each ladyfinger in the mixture and place on your serving dish. My ladyfingers soaked up a lot of liquid, but this may vary.

4. After you have one layer (half the ladyfingers), spread half the mascarpone on top.

5. Repeat (3) until you have another layer of ladyfingers. Spread the rest of the mascarpone mixture on top.

6. Using a sifter, sieve, or small-hole cheese grater, sprinkle cocoa over the top layer.

7. Chill for 4 hours or overnight. Serve with shaved chocolate (and more alcohol?).

Spain, Part 2: Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha

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The little sitting area in the garden at Eric and Janette’s hotel.

Every morning when I was in Spain, I met Eric, my boss, outside the fancy hotel where he and his wife stayed, and we walked together to the conference. Often, we ran into people Eric knew along the way, and we spent the walks talking shop. I was in nerd heaven.

Part of the walk to the university. We went through many roundabouts.

Part of the walk to the university. We went through many roundabouts.

We also walked by a lot of beautiful trees. After the cold, dark winter that I had escaped in the US, this was divine.

Everything was in bloom, since the weather there in early March was the same as it is now (in May).

Everything was in bloom, since the weather there in early March was the same as it is now (in May).

The site of the conference was the Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha, which used to be a factory. One might think that would make for an industrial atmosphere, but this is Europe, after all.

One of the university buildings.

One of the university buildings.

One of the main buildings of the conference.

One of the main buildings of the conference.

I gave my presentation on Tuesday, and although I was nervous enough that I shook well into lunch afterwards, it went well. Well enough, at least, that ETH offered me a job immediately after I was done. Unfortunately, I had to turn it down because I’m only beginning my masters program now.

On Wednesday afternoon, I explored the campus some and found a suspension pedestrian bridge. Below is the view back at Toledo from the bridge.

Toledo.

Toledo.

Did I mention the food? Every day, we ate lunch at Vente de Aires, a restaurant close to campus. And, my friends, this was not your average conference lunch. I wish I had had the lack of self-consciousness to whip out my camera at every meal, because the food was decadent. Each meal was three courses — appetizer, entree, and dessert — with plenty of pan and vino tinto to go along with it.

There was a lot of meat, some seafood, and very little that was green. I missed salad while I was there, but the cheese and wine made up for it.

Oh, Spanish wine. I could write an epic poem about Spanish wine. A 5 euro bottle of wine there is better than a $15 bottle of wine here, and it flowed like water wherever we went. I definitely got used to having at least a glass a day. When I got home, I eased myself back into American life with a glass of wine and a wedge of Manchego. But really, I’d go back to Spain in a heartbeat for the wine.

At the last lunch, Janette and I ate alone (most conference goers had left by this point), so I was able to snap a few quick pictures.

Vino y agua.

Vino y agua.

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Melt-in-your-mouth beef stew.

As is traditional with conferences like this, the last night was positively royal. It started with a string quintet concert in an old chapel. The acoustics were clearer than mountain water. As Eric put it perfectly afterwards, that kind of musical experience can make a religious person out of you. The quartet itself was divine — the lead violinist is one of the few in Spain who is approved to play the Stradivarius that is tucked away in a museum in Madrid.

The chapel and the string quartet.

The chapel and the string quintet.

After the music, we walked to the Plaza Zocodover, where a bus picked us up and took us to Downton Abbey.

The plaza at night.

The plaza at night.

Okay, it wasn’t Downton, but it was as breathtakingly huge and decadent. We drank cocktails around crackling fires, surrounded by marble and stone and those funny little groomed hedges. Then waiters directed us to a vast tent (I use the word “tent” lightly — it did have walls, after all). Inside, the ceiling was draped with cloth, and the tablecloths were red brocade. Unfortunately, it was too dark to take good pictures.

After we ate (and endured the most awkward speech I’ve ever heard), we went outside to discover that the conference secretaries had pulled some strings to get the mayor of Toledo to light up the city for us. All of the landmarks — Alcazar, El Catedral, etc. — were lit up from below. It was breathtaking, but again too dark to take pictures.

All too soon, it was time to go home. The next morning, I headed to the beautiful old train station and took the high-speed rail to Madrid to catch my plane. Of course, I had to have a last café before I headed back to bad American coffee.

Last café in Spain : (

Last café in Spain : (

There are so many more pictures, and so many more anecdotes, so I might share more in the future. But for now, I will leave you with this:

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For more on my trip to Spain, see Spain, Part 1: Toledo.

Puff Pastry Spinach Pie

Spinach Pie

Puff Pastry Spinach Pie

Inspired by this recipe. Serves 4.

Ingredients

2 frozen puff pastry sheets, thawed (I used 1, because that’s all I had, and it was quite hard to seal)

10 oz frozen chopped spinach, thawed

1 large or 2 medium yellow onions

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 egg

1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese (I used low-fat)

1/2 cup chipotle panko (or breadcrumbs…this is just what I had on hand, and I liked the added smokiness)

Smoked ham, diced (I eyeballed this until it looked like a good ratio of spinach:ham. I would say spinach >> ham, but you can adjust according to your preferences)

Directions

This was one of those recipes that I wish I had paid more attention to when I was making it, because it was inspired by the need to use up ingredients I already had, but it turned out to be the most delicious thing I have made in months.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

1. Sauté the onions in olive oil until they are soft. While I did this, I thawed the spinach in the microwave.

2. Add the minced garlic and remove from heat.

3. In a large bowl, combine all of the other ingredients except puff pastry until they are a warm, gooey, fragrant mass.

4. Spray a baking sheet with cooking spray and lay down the first puff pastry sheet.

5. Dump your gooey, fragrant mass of spinach on the first puff pastry sheet and top with the second puff pastry sheet.

6. Crimp the sheet around the edges so that the ooey goodness will not escape.

7. Bake until the puff pastry is puffed and golden. This took 25 minutes for mine, but it will vary. I recommend starting to check it at 15 minutes.

Chillin’ With Chandler: Young the Giant

ChanX

Me ‘n my sister, chillin’

Hey there guys, Chandler here. It’s Friday again! Oh boy. That means it’s time for some good tunes and chillin’ with your friends. I’m real excited, because my aunt is coming up to see me, so I’m gonna play something to dance to.

And if you like that, you’ll love to chill out to this song afterwards.

Boy oh boy do I love Young the Giant.

[Edit: I had this set to auto-post, so I apologize for the happy tone when today should be a day of mourning. Stay strong, Massachusetts.]

Spain, Part 1: Toledo

I have been putting off posting about Spain, mostly because the number of photos I have is overwhelming, but also because I told and re-told my trip story to so many people that I just wanted to crawl off by myself and enjoy my memories in peace. Alas, a month later, here I am.

So for those of you who are thinking, “Spain? Huh?,” I went to Spain for a week in March to attend the 8th International Fracture Mechanics of Concrete and Concrete Structures (FraMCoS-8) conference. My incredible boss, adviser, and chocolate supplier (all one person) had submitted a paper that I did some work on as an undergraduate so that I could attend and present a paper. He also came along, since it turns out he’s actually a fracture mechanics celebrity.

The city of Toledo.

The city of Toledo.

The conference was held just outside Toledo at the Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha. I had done zero research about the city before I left, and I was pleasantly surprised by the winding streets and walled-city ambiance, much like some of the cities I visited in Tuscany when I was eight.

Although it was sunny and warm while I was there, it was ALWAYS windy. But the air was welcome. Fresh. Foreign and smoky, with a hint of sweet near all the marzipan shops. I loved waking up early and going out for a walk, heading uphill into the sunshine, passing all the old men and their dogs. It was impossible to find my way in the city — my boss, his wife, and I spent many hours getting lost while looking for somewhere to eat. Some nights I ventured out and got lost on purpose, simply enjoying the walk and the buzz of the city around me.

Zocodover

The Plaza Zocodover, the main plaza in the city.

Sunset Street

One of many narrow streets.

My days were measured by espresso. The café in Spain is like nothing you can get in America. I wish for it daily. I drank three or four a day. This particular cup (pictured below) I had in a chilly outdoor restaurant overlooking the city. Bliss.

I took eight years of Spanish, starting in 5th grade and continuing until my senior year of high school, but stopped when I came to college. As a result, my Spanish is slightly rusty, but it came back quickly — it had to, since I was the only person in our group who spoke Spanish, and someone needed to order the coffee.

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Cafe con leche.

I stayed in a small hotel just inside the entrance to the city. My room was small, but cozy, and I enjoyed speaking Spanish with the people at the front desk. Although I didn’t spend much time in my room (the allure of the city streets was too much), I would highly recommend this place to anybody looking to stay in Toledo.

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Hostel Puerta Bisagra

I would also highly recommend the city’s confections. This “magdalena de ratón” (mouse cupcake), with its little chocolate-covered-rice poopies, was scrumptious, and the perfect dessert after a glass of wine and a salad (incidentally the only greens I had in Spain…they’re big on meat there, but more on that later).

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Cupcake!

Often, we would walk until dark, listening to the church bells ring and stretching our legs after a long day of sitting in the conference.

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Just outside the city walls by an ancient bridge.

I felt so alive with the foreign night air on my face, the glow of the sun in the distance, surrounded by a different culture and an ancient city.

 

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Crescent moon on the rise.

 

Stay tuned for the next section of my trip: the conference! Don’t worry, I won’t summarize papers. But I will tell you all about the delicious food we ate. In the mean time, I have posted some pictures to Flickr, so hop on over there if you want to see more.

Chilling with Chandler

Hi folks. It’s Friday again. And you know what that means? It’s time to chill with Chandler. I was going to post about Spain, but Sean and I had to make an impromptu trip to Farmington, so I’m going to hand the blogging reins to…my cat.

Chansler

Hey guys! This week, we have the Grateful Dead doing an old Buddy Holly classic. I hope to see you next week for some more chillin’ tunes!

Daddy Sing Bass, Mama Sing Tenor

I do not claim to know anything about child psychology, but I do know that there is an accepted time in life when a child comes of age, which usually corresponds with the realization that his or her parents are not all-knowing. But some time in the past two weeks, I have come to an even better realization: My parents are virtual fonts of information. Their collective life knowledge is awe-inspiring. Sure, I have always listened to what they have to say, but I haven’t always followed their advice (only to discover that I should have), and I haven’t always really appreciated what their knowledge means to me and, really, in an entirely self-centered way, means for me. I can learn so much from them — why haven’t I dipped into this knowledge before?

Now, before you think I’m sucking up to my parents on the internet in hopes that they’ll buy me/give me something, everything I have discovered recently was from me bringing up subjects that they both know a lot about, and then actually listening, not just “ok mom” listening, to them. Try it some time. You’ll be amazed at what your parents have to say. It’s almost like they’re real people who have lived for twice (or way more) your life span.

Mama and me at Alice's graduation

Mama and me at my sister’s doctor coronation (graduation)

I’m currently reading a book called Cinderella Ate my Daughter by Peggy Orenstein. It has been on my to-read list for ages because of my, um, feminist kick? Feminist lifestyle? General interest in equality? Anyway, I also have an interest in child rearing since I’m a perfectionist and I don’t think that by the time I have kids in 10 years I will be even remotely prepared for it (is anybody?), so I may as well start reading the books now.

So I brought up the book to my mom on my walk home (which takes 45 minutes, so we had plenty of time to talk), and as she talked, I realized that she is an absolute genius when it comes to kids. And no, I’m not just saying that because she raised me (ba dum dum chssh). I mean, she really knows her stuff. She has read the books, done experiments (just look at my sister), and examined her own soul so thoroughly that I am not sure I would trust even a world-renowned child psychologist over her. It’s honestly kind of intimidating. I’m afraid I could never reach her level of patience and knowledge.

My daddy and me, drinkin' some...apple juice.

My daddy and me, drinkin’ some…apple juice.

I am similarly intimidated by my father, who is an electrical engineer. When I was growing up, engineering meant less time with my dad. Maybe that’s why it took me way too long to realize that engineering is what mother nature intended me to do. At any rate, the fact that my father has a PhD means that he has endless experience with exactly what I’m going through as a master’s student.

This afternoon, I called my parents in a fit of frustration, needing someone to vent to. For two months, I have been trying to get my research off the ground only to have a huge roadblock in place: we can’t get the #$@*&% concrete to mix. I don’t want to get into the technical details of this concrete, but suffice it to say that it is notorious for being difficult. Yet we weren’t even getting to the frustrating stage that other researchers have experienced. Today, however, we discovered a tiny little mistake that led to the mix finally working. That tiny mistake? One of our mix ingredients was the wrong one. It is nobody’s fault, but it had been my first instinct to check whether it was the wrong one because something seemed off about it…but, since I was new to this, I assumed I just didn’t know enough.

At any rate, my father knew exactly what to say to make me realize that this was not a failure, but rather a learning experience.

Really, guys. Parents. They’re worth talking to.

The Winter Desert

Last weekend, Sean and I traveled northwest for my grandfather‘s funeral. We stayed at the Guilford Bed and Breakfast with my sister and brother-in-law. The owners of the B&B are friends of ours from before we built our house up there, and it was wonderful to see them both. The service was a lovely, memory-filled celebration of my grandfather’s life, and spending time with our extended family seemed an excellent way to say goodbye to him.

The tracks of an odd animal in the snow by the Forge (my mother's snowshoe tracks).

The tracks of an odd animal in the snow by the Forge (my mother’s snowshoe tracks).

I enjoyed our time in Guilford in spite of the occasion; seeing my family and our friends never fails to cheer me up, particularly since I don’t see too many people during the week.

I found that when we came home, I was disappointed and bored with Old Town. This is something I have been feeling ever since Sean and I returned from Arizona, and while it motivates me to work hard so that we start thinking about moving there, it is also not healthy and is entirely against my self-view. I like to be happy where I am. How else will I survive being here for another two years? And while Orono will be a grand improvement on Old Town in June, I can’t help but wonder if I will cheer up as much as I expect to.

These thoughts were in my mind as I headed to the rec center last night after work to blow off some steam. Looking forward to a trot on the track, I heaved open the door and found the lobby entirely filled with people wearing animal suits. Come to think of it, they were probably gearing up to do a Harlem Shake video, but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. I beat my way through the crowd to the women’s locker room only to find that it, too, was overrun with people with nary a locker in sight. As I tend to be paranoid about people running off with my stuff, and since my one glance at the track had revealed a crowd of people walking, I paused. Frustration overrode my contemplations and I barreled back through the crowd of people, now including Pikachu and our mascot, Bananas.

Sean had the car, the bus wasn’t coming for another 45 minutes, and it was about 15 degrees with wind chill, so my logical decision was to zip my coat up to my chin, tighten up my backpack straps, and walk the three miles home on the (plowed) bike path.

It turned out to be an excellent decision.

The Orono Desert

The Orono Desert

Although I froze and managed to give myself a nasty cold rash, every step was worth it. My love of Maine comes from my love of the outdoors, and often that love is confined to the summer months, when I can hike, climb, swim, etc. without thinking twice. Last winter, we never even had negative temperatures, and Sean and I were hiking well into January and climbing again in March. This winter, with the blizzards and the -20 windchill, I have forgotten what it is to get outside, breathe the fresh air, and feel the edge of warmth on my face from the sun nestled in its low spot along the horizon.

As I walked by my favorite field, I looked to my right only to see Water Sprinkler walking along next to me. He had his characteristic humpback, and his long legs and flute stretched into shadow, gliding along with my steps. Although it was only my backpack-toting shadow and a trick of the eyes, I was comforted. Water Sprinkler may bring the snow, but he also brings the spring rains. Winter will not last forever. But, while it’s here, I may as well enjoy it.

Flowers I bought myself to bring a breath of spring to the house...turns out carnations are on the top 10 most poisonous things to cats, so they're at Sean's now.

Flowers I bought myself to bring a breath of spring to the house…turns out carnations are on the top 10 most poisonous things to cats, so they’re at Sean’s now.